


Better Than That

by kittenofdoomage



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Smut, Song fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 13:37:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20154484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenofdoomage/pseuds/kittenofdoomage
Summary: Dean’s drowning his sorrows in the aftermath of “Moriah”.





	Better Than That

The bar was moderately noisy, conversations molding together over the low music playing from the jukebox. There was a band on tonight, not that Dean was paying any attention. His focus was entirely on the whiskey reflecting the light back at him, his heart aching with loss as much as his body ached with injury.

His back in particular, was a mass of bruises. He hated being thrown against things, and it was God’s power that had sent him flying, so he was surprised he wasn’t dead.

They had no idea what was coming next.

Sam’s shoulder was the least of his problems after they’d fought their way out of that cemetery, away from the literally walking dead. Whatever Chuck had done, he’d unleashed hell, but so far, they hadn’t done much but grieve for the boy they’d raised.

Dean wouldn’t have killed Jack. He didn’t think he had it in him. And being the subject of Chuck’s manipulation had left him more than a little pissed off. He’d almost been raging, despite being exhausted from the fight, and in order to spare Sam and Cas the brunt of it, he’d left the bunker, allowing them time to rest and heal.

The bartender refilled his drink when he asked and the band started to play; Dean ignored them, casting an aura around himself that kept everyone at bay.

The female singer finished her first song before thanking everyone for coming along. She chatted for a moment and when the music started again, Dean’s attention was drawn to the stage. His eyes took in the gorgeous singer, her blonde hair hanging long and loose over her shoulders, her smile almost hypnotic.

He remembered the song she was starting to sing.

> ** _I'm trying so hard not to love them too fast_ **
> 
> ** _But I pull the horses, and race from the track_ **
> 
> ** _Relapse of all reality, and never look back_ **
> 
> ** _Want a real, hard love that's better than that_ **

Closing his eyes, Dean listened, every painful detail of the first time he heard it coming back. 

_ “Dean?” _

She’d been so shocked to see him on her doorstep, reeking from a week’s worth of traveling, a stolen rucksack on one shoulder and a vicious looking blade in the other. It took a moment for her to step back and let him into her house, his boots catching on the rug as he stepped over the threshold.

_ “What the hell happened to you?” _

He’d relayed his adventures to her over a glass of whiskey and a sandwich she insisted he ate. She hadn’t seen Sam - she’d been out of hunting for a while at that point. Dean didn’t blame her. He shouldn’t have gone to her, but when he’d helped Benny and sent him on his way, he didn’t know where else to go.

The whiskey had gone down too quickly after a year sober. He passed out on her couch, his head on her lap. And this was the song she’d sung to him, her fingers gliding through his hair as he slept peacefully for the first time in too long.

Reaching out, Dean tapped two fingers on his empty glass and the bartender gave him a cautious smile. “You look like you got a lot on your mind,” he started, obviously intending to coax something out of the tense-looking man.

“Yeah,” Dean grunted, watching him fill the glass like a hawk. “But ‘m not feelin’ chatty.”

> ** _I'm trying so hard not to bury myself_ **
> 
> ** _Beneath the dirt and the flowers is somebody else_ **
> 
> ** _Yeah, beauty is blinding and darkness runs deep_ **
> 
> ** _Wanna hold onto him and still hold onto me_ **

The bartender slunk off, not pushing his luck.

Y/N had never been like that. She’d pushed her luck from the word go and Dean had loved her all the more for it.

He still remembered the swift right hook she’d given him, mistaking him for a werewolf on a hunt in Dallas. It was his first solo hunt and he hadn’t been expecting another hunter on the case. In the end, they’d made a good team.

_ “You’re pretty handy with a pistol, Winchester, _ ” she’d quipped, tossing him a smile as she checked the three wolves she’d taken down. Each of them was dead, neat little bullet holes in their hearts, silver killing them instantly.

_ “Not so bad yourself _ ,” he’d replied. They’d ended up in a bar not long after and not dissimilar to the one he was in now.

Too much vodka and adrenaline had them stumbling back to her motel room, hands running everywhere as they finished the evening wrapped up naked in each other. Dean closed his eyes again, one hand wrapped around his glass as he remembered each detail of that night.

_ “Dean,” she whispered, her lips soft and wet against his. “Don’t stop.” He hummed against her mouth, lying alongside her on the queen bed. Both of them were down to their underwear, one of her bra cups pulled down as his fingers toyed with her nipple. _

_ “You want more?” he asked quietly, nuzzling his nose into hers. _

_ A lazy smile stretched her lips. “Yeah.” _

_ Slowly, Dean dragged his hand over her belly, down to the waistband of her panties. His fingers easily slipped underneath, finding her shaved bare, her pussy lips already wet and puffy with arousal. “You’re so fuckin’ wet, baby,” he praised, spreading her labia with two fingers, using the middle one to tease her entrance. _

_ Her hips lifted, her body automatically seeking more friction and Dean gave it willingly, sinking the single digit as deep into her slick warmth as he could. Y/N gasped, the sound followed by a low sultry moan that made him smile and kiss her again. _

_ He added a second finger as her inner walls pulsed around him, using his thumb to apply the slightest amount of pressure to her clit. Her entire body shuddered; she broke the kiss with a quiet cry and Dean took the opportunity to cover her exposed nipple with his mouth. _

_ It took mere seconds to coax a climax from her but Dean didn’t stop when she started to pant, her thighs quivering with her release. He kept going until her fingers grasped his wrist, forcibly pushing him away as she grunted, “Too much.” _

_ Dean laughed, meeting her in a kiss again, moaning in surprise when her hand grasped his rigid cock through his boxer shorts. _

_ “Want this,” she hummed, her eyes dark as she looked at him, “in my mouth.” _

_ There wasn’t time to stop her, not that he’d wanted to. Y/N slid down the length of his body, dragging his boxers down. Her hot little hand surrounded him, squeezing the base of his shaft - he grabbed a pillow with one hand, trying not to embarrass himself when her tongue flicked his crown. _

_ “Fuck -” he almost choked on the word, closing his eyes and completely forgetting to breathe as she sucked his dick. Her lack of gag reflex was astounding, and Dean was sure he’d died and gone to heaven when her mouth surrounded his entire cock. _

_ She kept going, bobbing away, pausing to breathe occasionally, her hand holding him tightly, just about staving off his climax. He needed to stop her, to pull her off, otherwise he’d end up cumming in her mouth and he wanted so badly to fuck her, to feel the silky wetness of her pussy around his dick. _

_ He managed to choke out her name; Y/N pulled back, looking up at him with saliva-slicked lips. There wasn’t any man alive could resist her like that and Dean almost lost himself then and there. _

_ “Lay back,” he murmured, pulling her up the bed. “Need a minute to cool down.” _

_ “That good, huh?” _

_ Dean chuckled. “That fuckin’ good, sweetheart.” She laid back, acquiescing when he pushed her thighs apart. Her eyelids were slightly dipped, her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she watched him settle between her legs. “Besides, I wanna taste you.” _

_ His tongue swept over her aching cunt in a motion that made her hips jerk. One hand swiftly pinned her to the mattress, leaving her nothing to do but cry out when his mouth sealed over her clit, sucking hard enough for her to see stars. _

_ Y/N hadn’t had much success with men and oral sex. She’d confessed as much to him in the bar and Dean was determined to make her cum as hard as possible, just to prove a point. _

_ It took about three minutes before she was clutching the sheets and screaming his name loudly, his hands the only thing stopping her thighs from crushing his head. Dean couldn’t keep the self-satisfied smirk off his face when he crawled back up to her, kissing her with the taste of her cunt on his lips. _

_ She pushed his boxers down, her patience worn out. With one hand, she held him tightly, guiding him into her slick passage. _

_ He might have impressed her in the cunnilingus department, but his first round was over in only a few minutes.  _ At least he made her cum _ , he consoled himself afterward, promising her a second round in the morning. _

Dean grinned, tossing his drink back in one hit. He’d managed a fourth round that night. When they’d woken up the next morning, his dad was sending him on another hunt and Y/N had agreed to go with him.

His phone was ringing in his pocket. Pulling it out, he laid it on the bar, ignoring the call from Cas. The angel gave up and a few seconds later, a text appeared on the screen. “ _ Where r u _ ” with a sad face emoji. Dean turned the screen off.

> ** _Cocaine, whiskey, rye_ **
> 
> ** _They don't even compare to how love makes me high_ **
> 
> ** _So I won't push my luck_ **
> 
> ** _I'll sober up_ **
> 
> ** _I won't feed off of it till it dies_ **
> 
> ** _Hmm, hm-hmm_ **

_ Earlier that night _

“Not a problem, Scott, just text me your drop point and I’ll get the talisman to you before tomorrow.” The call ended and Y/N put her phone down, scribbling a note in her book next to the listing for the Ancient Tibetan Talisman that Scott was looking for.

It was a few thousand dollars to get her through the summer season, she supposed. And she’d made sure the thing was useless to anyone who wanted to use it for ill gain.

Since getting hurt on the job, she hadn’t gone back out. Now, she researched lore, stayed away from the action. Ignoring calls for help from others was hard, but she’d learned the hard way that the job didn’t get done if you were too dead to do it.

Getting up from her desk, Y/N yawned and headed to the kitchen, thankful that her apartment was small enough that she didn’t have to move very far. The light in the kitchen was flickering again and she scowled, tapping the light switch to stop it. It worked and she shuffled toward the coffee maker, grumbling when she found it empty.

“Y/N.”

The feminine voice made her jump and turn, suddenly realizing she wasn’t armed at all. Across from her, with a curious look on her face, was a woman she’d never seen before.

“I need your help.”

> ** _I'm trying so hard to stay right where I am_ **
> 
> ** _I drop my mind in reverse to speed up ahead_ **
> 
> ** _Breakdown on a road that just leaves me for dead_ **
> 
> ** _Want the peace of the present to steer me instead_ **

_ Back at the bar _

His phone was ringing again. Dean didn’t know why they were bothering. Castiel had sent several messages and there was one from Sam that simply said ‘ _ take your time _ ’. His brother knew him well enough to know he needed to blow off some steam.

Waking up in a ditch was a distinct possibility but Dean couldn’t care less.

There was a voicemail notification on his phone. He swiped it away, finishing another glass of whiskey and ordering the bartender to leave the bottle as he slapped a fifty onto the sticky bar surface.

Why did this song have to play tonight? Was the universe trying to remind him of the worst fuck up he’d made, besides provoking fucking  _ God _ to end the world?

He’d missed her every day since she’d left.

Since he’d  _ made _ her leave.

The Mark had been twisting him, torturing him and he was darkening by the day. He’d felt so goddamn hopeless, terrified he’d hurt her, even by accident. Y/N was stubborn and resistant to his pleas for her to go, brushing each attempt off, insisting they’d find a way through.

Dean knew he needed to protect her. He was heading off on a suicide mission and she needed to be as far away from him as possible.

The things he’d said had been brutal. He’d mocked just about everything from her weight to her looks, knowing that spite would drive her away. Maybe he did it because he didn’t think he’d ever have to apologize, maybe he wanted her to hate him. In the end, he only hated himself for the vicious lies he’d spat.

She hadn’t even shouted back. She’d just walked away, crying silently. Half of her stuff was still lying around the bunker and he’d gone off to face Metatron without any hope of seeing her face again.

> ** _Cocaine, whiskey, rye_ **
> 
> ** _They don't even compare to how love makes me high_ **
> 
> ** _So I won't push my luck_ **
> 
> ** _I'll sober up_ **
> 
> ** _I won't feed off of it till it dies_ **

It was a dizzying sensation, being transported halfway across the country. Luckily, she’d been wearing shoes, which was a gift considering the bar they were suddenly standing in. The woman who had appeared in her apartment, Amara, had only told her that Dean needed her.

And now she could see why.

It had been years since she’d laid eyes on him and yet she recognized the hunched posture of the hunter at the bar, a mostly-empty bottle of whiskey sat beside him. The band was just finishing up for the night, many of the patrons already gone from the establishment.

“He needs you.”

“How do you know that?” Y/N asked, not taking her eyes off of him.

Amara smiled. “I know Dean.”

“I don’t understand why you’re doing this,” Y/N admitted, her shoulders dropping a little.

“Because Dean made me see what I needed when it was most important. But my brother… he’s angry. And it will take humanity to stop him. Dean’s humanity…” She tilted her head, regarding the mortal carefully. “His humanity lies with his family. In the love he holds for others.”

Y/N wasn’t sure what to even say to that. Amara placed a hand on her shoulder, smiling again. “What if I’m not enough?” she whispered.

“Only you can decide that,” Amara returned, stepping back, gesturing to Dean.

> ** _Yeah, I've got a history, I know you do too_ **
> 
> ** _But the hell would we be without what we've been through_ **
> 
> ** _And I don't give a damn about the mud on your boots_ **
> 
> ** _I just want you_ **

His shoulder was warm against her palm and the action would have normally made him turn instantly, but alcohol had dulled his senses. It was a slow turn, the realization dawning on his face like a curtain dropping on a stage.

Her name was on his lips, little more than a whisper; Y/N could see the hopelessness in his eyes, the bruises scattered across his cheek. She’d never seen him so tragically broken.

One hand slipped around her waist and she let him pull her close. Dean buried his face in her throat, sobbing as he hid himself against her. Leaning down, she placed one hand on the back of his head, the other on his shoulder, comforting him in a slightly awkward manner.

> ** _Cocaine, whiskey, rye_ **
> 
> ** _They don't even compare to how love makes me high_ **
> 
> ** _So I won't push my luck_ **
> 
> ** _I'll sober up_ **
> 
> ** _I won't feed off of it till it dies_ **
> 
> ** _Till it dies_ **
> 
> ** _Oh_ **

“You’re here,” he murmured when the sobs had stopped, looking up at her. In that moment, he seemed so small, and Y/N felt a surge of protectiveness in her chest. Whatever had happened between them, the years they’d spent apart, she’d never stopped loving him.

“I’m here,” she whispered, touching his face gently. “Let’s go home.”


End file.
